


What little can be saved

by Beleriandings



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 08:51:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4131552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After travelling across the sea, Elrond finally meets Turgon and finds that they are not really that different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What little can be saved

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Le Peu Pouvant Être Sauvé](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4164561) by [Soso_et_Candouille](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soso_et_Candouille/pseuds/Soso_et_Candouille)



“I… forgive me” said Elrond quietly. He stood before his great grandfather, the two of them at either side of one of the arches that bordered the stone courtyard. “It’s just… I’ve heard so much about you…”

“Good things, I hope” said Turgon, his mouth twitching up at one corner.

Elrond hesitated almost imperceptibly. “Glorfindel always spoke of you with the highest of praise.”

Turgon smiled. “We were old friends.”

Elrond nodded, staring in fascination for a little while longer, before giving his head a small shake. “I’m sorry” he said. “It’s just such an honour to finally meet you.”

“Likewise, my great-grandson.” 

“Gondolin was one of my inspirations for what I wanted Imladris to be, you know.”

Turgon looked rueful. “From what I have heard, Imladris was more of a haven than Gondolin ever was, and endured for far longer. So you were much more successful than I.”

Elrond felt himself blush like he was a child, cursing himself for bringing this up. “Yes, well…” he brightened suddenly. “I don’t know whether anyone has told you, but the library of Imladris contains… _contained_ , I should say, since they were brought across the sea with us… a very rare and special collection of books. After the fall of Gondolin, Pengolodh collected together as many manuscripts, tracts and records as could be saved, some taken from the very library of Gondolin itself, before it was burned, and gave them to Gil-galad. After…” he caught his breath, “…after the Last Alliance, some of them were given into my keeping.” He shuffled his feet. “I would restore them to you, great grandfather.”

“Books? From the library of Gondolin?” Turgon was staring at him, his eyes shining suddenly. “Yes” he said, in quiet, fascinated awe. “Yes, I… thank you.” He took Elrond’s hands in both of his for a brief moment, then his face went blank once more and he dropped them. “No” he said. “Actually, Elrond, I would like to look through of course, but I think they are yours now, more so than they ever were mine.” He smiled, sadness and warmth mingled together on his face. “As you have taken care of them so well in the East, please continue to do so in the West.”

Elrond bowed solemnly. “It would be my honour.”


End file.
